


Paper Anniversary

by LJ_McKay



Category: The View from Saturday - E. L. Konigsburg
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21637294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LJ_McKay/pseuds/LJ_McKay
Summary: Ethan and Julian exchange gifts.
Relationships: Ethan Potter/Julian Singh
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Paper Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bastet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastet/gifts).



I was studying for my history midterm—well, my history notes were open on my desk, at least. I had gotten a new idea for a set transition in our end-of-year production of _Alice in Wonderland_ and I was doodling it in the margins when a knock came at the door. I opened it and found Julian standing there, bike helmet in one hand and a reusable shopping bag dangling from the other. He was dressed impeccably, as usual, grey sweater vest and tie giving him a bit of the schoolboy look he had never really grown out of, although his fitted pants and dark shirt elevated it to a more adult level. His soft, blue-black hair was helmet-mussed but slowly rippling back into its natural state.

His beautiful, bruise-colored lips met mine in a warm kiss. “Happy anniversary,” Julian murmured. “I got you a gift.”

He walked into my room as I shut the door, sitting on my bed and placing his bag on the floor. He pulled out a neatly wrapped box, tugging lightly at the bow on top to straighten it. He handed it to me as I sat next to him, letting my knee rest lightly against his.

I peeled the tape off slowly, resisting the urge to rip the paper. With Julian, the journey was as—or more—important than the destination, and that applied to unwrapping presents, too. Sometimes he would hide little extras in the layers of paper, theater tickets or international currency or love notes, or just clues about what was inside. But even when there wasn’t anything else, I knew Julian enjoyed the slowing down, the deliberateness, the process. I had come to appreciate it more myself.

Julian was watching me intently, big dark eyes barely blinking. It had unnerved me at first, the way he just stared at me sometimes. _I_ was the observer, the watcher, the noticer, and I had always tried so hard not to be noticed. But Julian didn’t just notice me. He made me feel _seen_ , and I was beginning to realize what a rare feeling that was in this world.

I peeled off the last strip of tape and pulled the paper aside to reveal a 500-piece puzzle of an eye-watering collage of emojis. I frowned, confused. It was not a very Julian present.

“I could not find the original,” he explained apologetically. “But you remember our first tea?”

I realized then that the puzzle was not a standard rectangle but rather the shape of a heart. “I remember,” I said softly, running my fingers over the design on the box. I smiled slightly and looked up at Julian. “Did I ever tell you how nervous I was about buying a pink heart puzzle for another guy?”

He shook his head silently, eyes still boring into me, and I found myself talking more than I ever did with anyone else. He had that effect on me.

“It wasn’t that I was closeted,” I explained. “I didn’t even know yet. I sort of had a crush on Nadia, actually.” Julian’s eyebrows went up and his lips twitched. I grinned. “I know. I thought it felt weird because she was technically my cousin. It wasn’t until later that I realized…” I trailed off, clearing my throat. “Well, anyway, I couldn’t have told you what I was afraid of, getting that puzzle, but I definitely knew it was somehow…taboo. And when you actually liked it, and Noah and Nadia didn’t say anything about it…Well, I had been _intrigued_ by you since that first day on the bus, but I think it was then that I became _interested_ in you.”

I broke eye contact and swallowed, feeling the need to lighten the mood. “And to think, all that—all _this_ —because that was the only puzzle the store had!”

Julian reached for my hands, raising them gently to his lips. “Kismet,” he whispered, his breath warm on my knuckles. I twisted my hands so that I was gripping his instead and pulled myself closer to him, kissing him so urgently that his stubble burned uncomfortably against my lips and chin. (I had been trying since high school not to be jealous of the facial hair I still couldn’t grow.)

I pulled away and was gratified to feel Julian reluctant to let go. It was always nice to be reminded that _I_ could have that effect on _him_. I gave him one more quick peck before jumping off the bed.

“I got you something, too, of course!”

“But you are the best gift,” he said slyly, grinning.

“Oh, I know,” I retorted from my closet. I returned his grin as I handed him a flat, thin present, not nearly as nicely wrapped as his had been. “But I can’t let you win ‘best gift-giver in this relationship’ without a fight.”

He laughed, kissing me again before turning his attention to the package. He took his time with it, of course, and I held my breath while he slowly revealed the sketchbook. It was my turn to stare at him as he carefully opened it and turned the pages. I swallowed, my heart racing as I suddenly worried—just like all those years ago—that I had chosen the wrong gift.

I had drawn him. Fifty pages of him. I had drawn him as the Phantom, as Puck, as Jean Valjean and a dozen other of my favorite characters and costumes. I had drawn him sleeping, studying, catching snowflakes on his tongue, in special moments and in the mundanities of everyday living. On the final page, I had drawn both of us—nude, and intertwined, sensual but not erotic. At least I hoped so.

He was silent as he paged through it, taking in each image, smiling at a memory here or blinking in surprise at some emotion I had caught there. He finally reached the last page; his breath hitched and he went totally still. His face was bent down toward the book so I couldn’t see his expression, and I held my breath for what seemed like an hour before he looked up with tears in his eyes.

“Ethan,” he breathed, swallowing hard. “It’s…this is…”

“It’s a study in contrasts,” I babbled. “Brown, white; blond, black; short, tall; circumcised and not. And yet somehow they go together. Yin and yang.”

He nodded. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” He hesitated. “Thank you…for _seeing_ me.”

“You saw me first,” I mumbled.

“I think, perhaps, we saw one another at the same time.”


End file.
